Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
(Chain Email 01) Friends, I warn of a man who claims Your uncle is going to die. He’ll spin a tale of a bank account With billions that’s in Dubai. He tries to make you think it’s real Though he consistently fails. His photoshop skills are subpar; Unlike most of his emails. Whilst he knows all about you, He’s a mystery - quite contentious. This man, his gender a guess of my own, Goes by Mr Pretentious. (Chain Email 02) Oh, yes I got one from him last week! He seemed to me to be quite meek. He told me he needed some cash, To organise a birthday bash. He said he was from Addingham, And that my emails went to spam. He was the one who emailed first; With that detail, laughter did burst. I deleted the email and let rot in the bin. And since that day, that’s where it’s been. (Chain Email 03) You bumbling buffoon, you crass infidel. I am within this mail chain as well. I know who you’ve told but the jig isn’t up, And the world won’t be rid of me yet, buttercup. See, that uncle was real, though your ‘sleuthing’ confused - That poor uncle of yours, see, he had been abused. He looks weird to you for he’s needed his face To be reconstructed, and had his teeth replaced. And I’m from Addingham, though my birthplace unknown; My parents are too, I could be heir to the French throne! I don’t care if you think it’s all lies, but, you see, No one does business like little old me.
0
Feb 7
Feb 7, 2026 at 10:43 PM UTC
The Undeterred Third Saga Regarding Mr Pretentious: A Writing in 3 Movements
(Chain Email 01) Friends, I warn of a man who claims Your uncle is going to die. He’ll spin a tale of a bank account With billions that’s in Dubai. He tries to make you think it’s real Though he consistently fails. His photoshop skills are subpar; Unlike most of his emails. Whilst he knows all about you, He’s a mystery - quite contentious. This man, his gender a guess of my own, Goes by Mr Pretentious. (Chain Email 02) Oh, yes I got one from him last week! He seemed to me to be quite meek. He told me he needed some cash, To organise a birthday bash. He said he was from Addingham, And that my emails went to spam. He was the one who emailed first; With that detail, laughter did burst. I deleted the email and let rot in the bin. And since that day, that’s where it’s been. (Chain Email 03) You bumbling buffoon, you crass infidel. I am within this mail chain as well. I know who you’ve told but the jig isn’t up, And the world won’t be rid of me yet, buttercup. See, that uncle was real, though your ‘sleuthing’ confused - That poor uncle of yours, see, he had been abused. He looks weird to you for he’s needed his face To be reconstructed, and had his teeth replaced. And I’m from Addingham, though my birthplace unknown; My parents are too, I could be heir to the French throne! I don’t care if you think it’s all lies, but, you see, No one does business like little old me.
Angry much?
Written by
Feb 7
Feb 7, 2026 at 10:43 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem